


aletheia

by princedemeter



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, i just stuck it in there so only kinda, just a dump of emotion honestly, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princedemeter/pseuds/princedemeter
Summary: Aletheia, the Greek goddess of truth. Her hands burn. Dream should know, because he's held them.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 104





	aletheia

**Author's Note:**

> im supposed to be working on the still point but dream simped for george so hard on this last stream i got emotional honestly

Dream knows. He knows.

Well, he doesn’t KNOW. He  _ knows _ , in his heart of hearts. But he doesn’t actually know. Objectively, he knows. Subjective knowledge is… a paradox?

It’s all George’s fault. George went ahead and looked pretty, and had a cute smile, and was brilliant and sweet and kind, and now look what happened. Look what happened. Dream is – he’s –

He doesn’t say it, because if he doesn’t say it, it’s not real, and he avoids the thought that constantly hovers on the edge of his waking mind, because if he doesn’t think the thought, he doesn’t have to confront the truth. Stream of consciousness avoiding conscious thought, and he blathers on to his viewers, tripping so quickly over his words that race ahead of his brain.

It’s the most inconvenient moments that do it for him. When all he can think about is George, his laugh, his smile, and he tries to shake it out like a dog with water but it’s magnetized and comes back, like a bad penny, or a good penny, because George could never be anything but good. His brain catalogues George’s laughs, the way he smiled on his last stream, the way he talked to Dream like he meant something, like they were important not just as individuals but  _ together _ _,_ with each _other,_ and he’s both where he never wanted to be and the only place he feels at home.

Where’s the plot? Dream asks. Where’s his happy ending? Where’s the moment it all falls together and he fucking gets what he wants? He’s supposed to have it all, the fame, the fortune, all without having to ever show his face. He can walk down the street and people won’t look twice, but the second he jumps online millions of people flock to him. It’s the perfect double life, isn’t it? 

He dresses the truth up in outrageous clothes, tacks it to the wall like a cartoon up at the office, and lets the people see. He’s not sure how to hide it if he tried, his heart emblazoned on his sleeve, thinks he would lose it if he did. That truth, tiny and fragile, and oh-so tender. It scalds him when he tries to hold it.

He thinks of the story of Meleager, sickly and coughing, his life tied to a piece of firewood burning in the hearth. How his mother locked it away underneath layers and layers, protected it with her life, because it was the most precious thing in the world. How in the end, she was the one to burn it.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> @princedemeter on tumblr


End file.
